


Better Together

by nightmarefever



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (its akechi), First Time, Fluffy Post-Game Sex That's The Fic, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Riding, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarefever/pseuds/nightmarefever
Summary: They'll get somewhere eventually.





	Better Together

Getting to this point was… difficult. Besides the roadblocks he had anticipated, getting murdered and fighting over how that didn't quite turn out expected and thinking the other had ACTUALLY been murdered, there was the internal walls. Akira didn't realize how high his were after everything, having to warm up to the idea of even friends for weeks. Akechi just refused to let anyone get personal period. 

But, somehow, they'd managed. Months of going back to the simple crushes they'd formed before the engine room, interrogations, traitors and remembering things could've been kinder and they would be kinder. Nothing had ever felt so rewarding.

Akechi is frail with him. Aftermath of what had happened, maybe just how he was naturally deep down. Every touch had to be slow and careful no matter how impatient either of them were. They'd learned that the hard way after enough of passion turning into panic and tears.

They'll get somewhere eventually.

Fan in the room’s corner blows over the bed, Akechi’s hands brushing through Akira’s hair. Hot hands on a hot face and lips on his. Laying next to each other on equal footing. 

Maybe tonight.

Each kiss is a bit warmer, hands touching Akira’s neck. He wants to make a joke about how he should choke him but risque jokes seem moodbreaker. He sticks to silence and rubbing his palms on Akechi’s sides, boy curling closer into his body with them. 

They haven't said anything at all, actually. Only noise is the fan, high, or the heavy way Akechi breathes, as he does with any activity lately.  _ Please don't pass out on me. _

He snakes his hands lower, squeezing light to lower back, thumb playing at the bandwidth of sweatpants. Enough trial and error has taught Akira where safe spots are. This only elicits a bite, Akechi tugging at his lower lip. Own hands wandering. One goes under Akira’s shirt and brings shivers. Thumb ghosts his chest, over old battle scars and very sensitive nipples.

Akira smiles, tilting into his pillow. Sighs as his exposed neck is kissed. Finds comfort in the apparent smile he can feel on the other’s face. It's comforting when Akechi can actually enjoy himself. The frustration of friendliness met with frowns and swears is over (from both of them, he won't deny his faults). 

No more aggression. Only improbable softness. Like the lips back on his face, fingers trailing down his stomach. 

“Is here fine?” Akechi’s real voice, not the squeaky clean, television approved one, but the raspy, deader tone. It's such a reward for their intimacy. Akira notices it comes with a tugging on his boxers. 

“Shouldn't I be asking that?”

“I'm being polite.” 

Chuckles.

“...Well?”

Odd to think about the aversion to even cuddling Akechi used to have, blankets wrapped around himself to sit with Akira on the couch. Refusing to even get dressed in the same room, hissing at any bodily compliment he was given. 

“Whatever you want, babe.” Akira kisses his nose.

“Ugh… don't.” Teasing, even if said so flatly. He'd know if Akechi was disapproving. 

Akechi’s fingers dip down, tugging open the buttons of his boxers with learned ease. He'd been more willing to help Akira out at first, it's only natural he learn so fast. “...It shouldn't surprise me but you really are too easy.” 

Akira just smiles. He watches Akechi pull him out, embarrassingly stiff because, yeah, he probably is easy. Too excited by any chance to have fun with someone who’s rarely in the mood for it. The whole relationship edges him.

Akechi leans his head on Akira’s chest, fluffy hair tickling the other’s nose. Akira fake sneezes.

“Stop.” 

A giggle. Pulled into a purring sound with the tug of Akechi’s hand, fingers squeezing around a familiar length. Akira tucks his face into the ticklish hair. 

He grabs to his boyfriend’s hips, keeping his own as steady as he can. This was originally… sloppy. Endearing but sloppy. Akechi too slow, hands too tight, boy freezing when things were nearing the end, not helped by Akira coming undone with it. Now, a thumb drags over his head, just long enough to make Akira whine. Returning to a firm grip that strokes with the lightest of turns. Nothing’s too much, too little. Akechi figures his work out so diligently. 

“Can I…” Akira pauses, listening to the soft sigh from the other. Cute.

“Hm?” Cuter. Akechi’s free hand holds his side, nails gently brushing ribs. Cutest.

“Do I have permission to touch you too, oh great Crow?” 

He can feel the eye roll. He wishes he could've seen it. 

Akechi chuckles, palm dragging. “If our dear leader desires it, so be it.” Oh. He rarely plays along.

“If our handsome prince is fine with it.” But Akira is already dipping under the sweats. 

“He is.” There's a nervous tone to Akechi’s voice. The genuinity is always welcome. 

It grows with Akira’s motions. Fingers feeling down the other’s boxers, pressing when they meet a wet bump through them. A lip is obviously bitten with their rubbing. Akechi is breathing through his nose. 

They turned the fan on so he wouldn't be embarrassed and yet…

Silence falls again. Both boys focused on their own hands, trying not to make more noise than the other. But obviously one is trying harder and one doesn't quite mind. Akira doesn't mind, moaning into Akechi’s hair. Rubbing rougher to draw similar from the tight-lipped boy besides him.

Akechi grabs his wrist. 

Akira freezes up. He messed up. He was too rough. He's already thinking about how to calm Akechi down, how to apologize again. One forming in his throat -

He swallows it as Akechi lifts his hand, bristles on his palm as it's pushed under boxers. 

That’s even more nerve wracking.

“Are… you sure?” He can't even remember the last time they'd tried this but he trusts it was a disaster. But there's a nod against his chest telling him to go ahead regardless. “Okay. Okay just… let me know if it's too much.” 

“Mm.” 

A knot tugs in Akira’s stomach as he ventures down. Soaked fabric is slick against his knuckles, nothing compared to what his fingers brush. He hopes it's not chaffing, how they usually do this. There's so little space. 

Debates asking what exactly Akechi wants him to do. For his sake. To hear him have to say it. But he'll stop him if they're not together on Akira’s actions. That's a certainty. 

He follows his usual path, finding that wet bump, wetter right on his fingertip. Easier to circle, gently rub. Draw out a sigh as Akechi opens his mouth. This must be okay.

Akechi’s practiced hand tightens around Akira with a step further. Middle finger drags down his core. Hesitate but dipping into the boy slowly. 

Akira’s face feels hotter at how easy it is, the very fact he finally gets to do this, how he thinks he hears a whimper. Akechi’s stroking slower. There was certainly a sound. 

Second finger eases in. No reaction, other than Akira’s heart grower louder in his ears. Nervous about messing up, thrilled to watch how the other reacts. Hoping he’s comfortable as they push further in, drag out, and form a steady rhythm.

Akechi’s stroking picks up. Bad distraction from the way he squeezes around Akira’s digits, heavy breathe hot against his chest. He'll be teased about it later. Akira puts back the jokes in store for now, focusing on bucking into Akechi’s loose fist. 

“Goro.” He sings the name out. 

It grabs Akechi’s attention immediately, just like always. He looks up and Akira grins. Hazy red eyes look at Akira, half-lidded, cheeks flushed enough it makes the light freckles over his nose’s bridge pop. He needs to take pictures one day. 

For now, leaning back into kisses is enough. Gentle at first but longer. Roughness building with the deeper Akira pushes his fingers until there's a tongue on his teeth, quiet sounds emptying into his mouth. 

Hand tugs at his hair and he groans back. 

“Akira…” It's breathless on his face. Eyes closed before him.

Akira can't help grin, even as he’s just as wrecked. “Good?” A nod follows. But there's more, stroking slowing down again. Making Akira inhale sharply.

Akechi shuffles and it forces Akira to stop completely, slipping from boxers to watch his boyfriend lean backwards. Trying and then succeeding to open the side table drawer. 

Akira’s eyes widen as Akechi comes back. He straddles him. A square of plastic sits in his mouth. Akira can tell just what it is when Akechi leans forward, pulling down his bottoms in an inelegant, too eager way. 

“Really?” Akira feels suddenly dizzy trying to wrap his mind around what's being suggested. It's even newer territory than before. Something he frankly assumed wouldn't ever happen and he was fine with. 

“Really.”

But there Akechi was, fumbling open the plastic and getting its contents on Akira apparently as fast as he could. Probably before whatever mood he was in died. Akira didn't question further to keep from distracting him, just rubbing his knees anxiously. 

Akechi really was so unlike how he came off when they'd first met. Proper, closed off, pretentious in the most kind, passive aggressive way Akira had ever seen. The fakeness, the desire to see what he was really like, that's what drew him in. But it's not why he stayed. He'd probably not have kept pushing if that was all Akechi had to offer. 

The messier, less publicly refined side was what kept him. Something he felt was just for him. Their other friends got an odd mix of the two now. They just wouldn't get to be allowed to see any of the vulnerability Akechi had stuffed to the brim.

Certainly none of his rasher decisions. Akira hisses, a wet hand stroking him again. Akechi never used to keep his gloves off at home. And he would've never spit into his bare hands. But this isn't the celebrity. This is Akira’s boyfriend. 

“I've never seen you so into something before,” he mumbles. Akechi wipes his hand off on his shirt an old novelty tee borrowed from the other. Just like the jacket he wore. Just like the ruined boxers and sweats lying on the floor. “I...I’m into this. In case you were wondering. But. You super sure you can do this?” 

More nodding as Akechi steadies himself. “I  _ want _ to do this, Akira.” 

“You want to do what?”

A hand steadies him next, holding his length still. Akechi quiet. Perhaps in concentration. Perhaps to egg Akira on.

“You want to fuck me, Goro?” 

Akira can't help grunt as Akechi engulfs him, losing the edge he was trying to have. It's slow, as they're used to, but the concept is overwhelming. The warmth crawling up his spine. Seeing the other flatten on his groin only makes the feeling worsen. Looking up no help. 

Mouth agape, eyes closed, Akechi is still. His hips tremble in a barely noticeable way, just enough it's obvious this is a lot… more than he was ready for. Not in a bad way, Akira hopes. He really, really hopes. 

He's relieved to get another kiss. Brown hair framing his face as Akechi sits over him. 

“Don't get cocky. I have enough of that to deal with.” 

He'll be okay. 

Akira holds Akechi’s arms as the other adjusts. He straightens up. Leans on Akira’s stomach in a way that makes Akira tense, gut already too warm to be messed further with. He gets used to it but the pressure remains. 

The first lift, fall makes them both flutter. Akira groaning, a hiss escaping Akechi. Bottom boy watching closely at how the other’s body moves. It's a careful motion, Akechi not pushing his limits quite yet.

Hands on his tummy reach for his fingers. He holds them tight, reaching to push hair from Akechi’s face, obviously sticking from sweat that must be making Akira just as hot. 

Akira begins rising his hips to help, meeting each fall halfway. Their movements steadily grow quicker as they move together, a warm union.

Akira feels his cock brush into something hard deep inside of Akechi that finally draws out moans. Audible, not hindered by covered mouths or bitten lips. Akechi squeezes his hands, doubling over and Akira tries holding the top boy up as he ruts into him.

“I'm so proud of you.” Akira wants to laugh at himself, hearing his voice shaking even when he's trying to sound comforting. He gives sweaty hands a squeeze. “You're...You're doing great, Goro.”

A whimper. “It feels great.” Just barely but Akira thinks he sees drool. A hand slides down his stomach, Akechi reaching to where the two meet. 

Akira giggles, moving his hold to his hips. “Are you not coming fast enough?” Funny with how close the heat feels within him to boiling over. Like Akechi needs any extra help. The helping hand is moved, Akechi brought back to Akira’s face. There's a mild huff of protest. Quickly buried by kisses.

“It...I feel like,” he finally gets out, swallowing thickly. “Like I'm dying.”

“I don't remember death feeling this nice.” Akira thrusts up. Smiling at Akechi tightening around him, both of them gasping. 

“It's not l-literal, you idiot.” 

“Be nice. This idiot’s the one fucking you.”  Another jerk of his hips, body beginning to feel just as shaky as Akechi looks. The other tucks into his neck, weakly meeting him with his own hips. 

“Akira…” 

“Not the idiot?” 

“Shut up--”

“Ask nicer.” Hearing his boyfriend’s hitching voice, feeling his body trembling above him, draws the heat to a point. He's not sure how much more is left in him.

“Hush!” 

“That's not the magic word, Crow.” 

“Just - THERE…!” 

His teeth clench. Ears ring from the sudden shout. The squeezing crushes him beautifully. Akechi circling his hips to push over and over against what he can only assume is the perfect spot, if only based on the moans on his ear, the pressure encasing his cock. 

Akira curls forward, arms wrapping tight around Akechi as the motions bring the heat over. Giving his own gasp into the other’s ear. Bucking up through his climax to help Akechi finish too. Whimpering for him. “Good boy… you can d-do it.” Hands combing through brown hair. “Cum for me, Goro.”

A sob of his name. Akechi flattening out as a violent twitch plays through his body. Akira petting his hair as orgasm rushes through his boyfriend at last.

And then they're on their sides, lips together again. Akira feels so suddenly cold. And messy. He definitely needs to shower soon. Now, though, he can be happy in the mess.

It'd been months since he'd tried actually  _ being _ with Akechi, a year or two actually. So much time he can't count now. More than that pinning after someone he probably shouldn't have even wanted. There'd been lows, so many terrible lows, but the highs growing as they kept pushing forward.

Pushing into things he never expected to be doing. Besides the outward troubles there were the inner struggles he really hadn't ever expected. The way Akechi used to flinch if he touched him suddenly, let alone if he'd asked to… 

Now Akechi holds his face, catching his breathe with their noses touching, foreheads together. 

“I love you.” His voice sounds so hoarse even if he'd barely spoke before. 

“I love you too. Even if you can't say please."

Akechi smiles. He shoves his face away lightly. “Asshole.”

“Better than an idiot.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
